


Semi-Professional

by HecatesKiss



Series: Whispers [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecatesKiss/pseuds/HecatesKiss
Summary: When things go wrong on a mission, Q can only be the voice in Alec's ear and his eye in the sky. The rest? Is up to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts), [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts).



“No, Double-oh Six, second left. Your left.” Q responded, not even pausing to allow Alec to ask the question. Q’s fist only tightened further when the ‘wig clearly transmitted the thud-ping of a ricocheted bullet. He glanced at another screen which was scrolling extraction data. Ten minutes twenty, Ten min nineteen, seventeen... He just had to keep Alec alive for ten more minutes, and then there’d be a medic to handle any bleeding. Ten more fucking minutes.

“Dead space, Home!” Alec’s voice suddenly cut back through Q’s headphones.

“I know, Double-oh Six. Out onto the ledge, scoot to the right. You _can_ still use your right hand, correct?”

“It was a shite shoulder shot, not to worry. Yes, I can still climb. They may be able to track by my leaving blood everywhere though.” Alec warned.

“Alec!” Q broke protocols to bark that one word. His fingers unclenched and he moved to the main keyboard and began to frantically type, fingers flying as he wormed back into the system, having forced himself to wait to let his worm work. 

The interface opened like _datura_ to the moon. Q was in, and started navigating the system, foreign language barely slowing him down. Thank god the Russian lessons were actually a help. He could do more than beg his lover to fuck him harder. He tore through various folders, Cyrillic barely registering and he raced against time. His eyes cut up again. Seven minutes three.

“I thought it better to keep the black shirt on, Q. Less likely to be seen.” Alec quipped with a grunt, also breaking protocol. 

Q’s fist clenched again as that noise transmitted clearly through the headphones he wore. He looked away from the screens for a moment. R was twisting his ponytail and tugging on the ends, gaze flicking between the screens and Q’s clenched fist.

No one had tried to get Q to remove the headphones. They all knew his focus _needed_ to be with his Agent to bring the man home.

“Double-oh Six. Can you reach the next level above?”

“Yes. Going to bleed like a stuck pig to do it though, they’ll be able to track.”

“All right. I want you to leave marks like you tried for the level above, but _instead_ drop to the balcony below you. You have a minute to get off the face of the building, but no more time than that.”

“Understood.”

Q heard the muttered curse before Alec stifled himself. He also heard the thud Alec made as he landed on the balcony. He triggered alarms cascading down, from the top to the ground floor in alternating order. First nine went, then six, then eight, seven, three, five, four, two, one and the ground.

People would pour into the halls. He heard glass shatter and then the noise of people panicky and attempting not to stampede down stairs registered. He listened as Alec hissed as he was jostled, a Russian curse slipping from between clenched teeth.

“What floor?”

“Three.”

“Five minutes. The car will pick you up at the corner. Blue, four door. A sedan. Plate ends in TE.” 

Q said nothing, watching as time ran down. He looked over to where Jaz sat, hunched over her monitor, both hands on the keyboard, mouth moving. He kept the headphones on. He couldn’t hear her. Only Alec’s breathing as he took stair after stair, feet drumming steadily on concrete, lost in the jar of so many others doing the same thing.

“I’m out.” Alec’s voice murmured it, trusting the earwig to carry his voice. 

“Double-oh Six? I’m Linden. Home sent me.” The woman’s voice was all Ulster.

“What is the colour of the day, Linden?” Alec asked as the door clicked shut. Q listened to the engine purr and waited for the response. He knew Alec still had a Browning on hand.

“Home’s socks are purple _and_ orange.” Linden said.

“Confirmed.” Q said, glancing down at his green Converse covered feet and smirking. “You are in safe hands. You should be back on friendly soil in thirteen hours, Double-oh Six. Home signing off.”

“Package safe. Goodnight, Home.” Alec responded. Q then heard nothing but static. He slid off the headphones and the room erupted into cheers. Q glanced down when R passed him a tissue. His left hand was bleeding slightly from where his nails had pierced his palm.

“I see that your relationship with a Double-oh does not impact your performance, Quartermaster.” Q looked up when _she_ spoke and met M’s cold eyes.

“Of course not, Ma’am. We are at least semi-professional.”

“What great fortune for us. I will want that drive decoded and on my desk by next week.”

“Yes, M.” Q responded, raking a hand through his curls. He waited until her clicking heels could no longer be heard and sagged against the desk. This one was a win. He wondered how many more would be.


End file.
